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Through an Acre of Fire I Would Travel


Date:  September 27, 2004
Place:  Telgar Weyr Lake Shore
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  Though this log would seem to begin abruptly, it's a 
complete scene--I just figured it'd be kinder to the reading audience
to cut out the screen's worth of 'has arrived' messages before the 
actual posing started. ;)  Kassi's out at the Lake again when the 
Weyrlings, Is, and Yselle turn up for their firestone class.  She 
doesn't participate as much in this one, but does catcall helpfully
from the sidelines--and amazingly, no one dies!  Not one fiery,
screaming death, despite all the pyromania.  It's almost 
disappointing, really. ;)

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The Log:

"Does that include me?" Yselle asks, not one of the first ten, "Cause you
know, if you like I'll just go back to the barracks," she's running easily,
chivvying along a pair of greenriders. "Come on you two, and don't think
I'sai can't count either."

Kassima crouches by the Lake to splash water over face, hands, neck, the
better to wash away dust; and if a splash or two makes its way towards
Lysseth's investigating muzzle--well, the indignant dragon really shouldn't
have been surprised. "Revenge is mi--" Alas, poor thought, broken off by
the arrival of others, at which point she stands and gives her clothes a
brisk brushing-off.

Yselle says "He's definitely got ten fingers - unless he lost a couple in
that threadfall."

I'sai lopes on over to his waiting dragon, by whom sits a good-sized pile
of firestone - and turns back to count; one, two, three, four, five, six;
at length there's the ten, and he yells out to the stragglers, "Head on
back! Too slow - better luck next time!" - "You wish," he adds on a laugh.
R'len looks positively sulky as he turns tail for the barracks, as if he'd
meant to do this all along.

I'sai then instructs, "Wingleader, 'seconds! Assemble Icemelt. Facing the
lake. Straight line," and gets himself a bagful of firestone. "Careful of
Lyss, Kassi; don't want that hide singed."

"Me move faster? You're the one whose...oh who cares, we're here." Trii
slows to a light jog as he surveys who's here already, breath baited and
then released in a whoosh as he catches count. "Yes, third." Daikoth takes
no time to rest, however. He's milking his last bit of time as a leader,
just in case, and he's rumbling bossily to the other eight
dragons--Leonneth is spared his wrath.

Breena's late, so much so that she very nearly misses being included in
that group of ten--relief floods her face as it's someone else who's told
to go back to the barracks. She takes her place in line, salutes I'sai,
Yselle, and Kassima crisply, and tucks her hands behind her back, waiting.
Sonaith's the one fidgeting this time, prompting a murmured word of
reassurance from her weyrling.

"Her Ladyship's nay partial to that idea herself," Kassima wryly agrees,
tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear and guiding a dragon who does
indeed move with some alacrity out of the line of fire. "Though I'm sure
nay any of these fine young dragons would *ever* make such an error,
etceteras, etceteras. G'deve, 'Lings," with a salute snapped to the whole
bunch.

Lysseth summons a greeting-rumble for the other dragons as well, though not
without casting the younger ones a Meaningful Look. There will be no
singing of green hide today. Not even a little.

Yselle, of all things, winks at I'sai, and fluffs her hair as though she'd
just been going out for a morning stroll. E'tan, one of the greens she was
harrying looks positively horrified, nudging the other greenrider, and
muttering, "Now I'm frightened." - "Nine then? Well as long as we have as
many weyrlings as you have fingers," she says. "That should be enough. Good
thing thread isn't falling, because classes could get /very/ low."

Lanisa slides into line, as usual, somewhere in the middle where she
doesn't figure she'll stand out so much, even if Tisiath is up to his usual
grand standing. She gives a sharp salute, but for her part stays quiet,
though she does grin at Kassi's reply.

Claret turns her head quickly from side to side, checking to make sure she
was one of the first ten before snapping an equally quick salute and
murmuring to Avrieth, "No, we don't have to go back. We got here right
quick," she assures before joining the line, Avrieth following with a
little rumble of greeting for the other dragons.

A'tan salutes I'sai, Yselle, and Kassima before turning to the left end of
the line. He looks over at M'tri and begins to get the others in order. He
speaks quietly to Breena with a smile, "Almost didn't make it." He slides
in next tot he others at the end. He pats Leonneth on the shoulder and
let's M'tri call the line to attention.

Daikoth whirls 'round swiftly to bugle his own greeting for Kassima, then
look positively appalled at the speed the line is forming. And the fact
that the line is forming sort of crooked. And then, on another thought...he
peers intently at Leonneth and A'tan for a good ten or fifteen seconds
before bugling as loudly as he can. M'tri is quick to roll his eyes, look
agitatedly at Daikoth, and then, after assuming his own strict stance,
call, "Atten-hut!" That ought to do their superiors proud. Daikoth is even
resisting wiggling in glee.

J'len's salute to I'sai, Yselle, the other Assistants, and Kassima is the
first thing he does as Cantaneth lumbers up to join the others dragons in
the inspection line. His salute to A'tan, M'tri, and the other Icemelt
Wingsecond come a hairsbreadth later; he's not keen on getting more
push-ups again this time around. Then he eyes the pile of firestone set out
for them tonight and blanches a bit, looking between Cantaneth, the other
dragons, and the firestone. He snaps to attention at the call, but his eyes
remain fixed on the stone their dragons are expected to turn into fire
tonight.

Once there's that atten-hut and Daikoth's bugling has stopped - Taralyth
vanes his wings, eyes whirling into turquoise amusement, and exhales
thickly some firestone-clouded air - I'sai starts handing out lumps of
firestone as he heads down the line: one each, just enough to occupy
restless hands. A'tan, M'tri and Doralle get riders' knots and low-muttered
comments; that pushy greenrider, E'tan, the first wingsecond's. As he moves
along, he picks on a few people at a time. Giving A'tan a break for once,
"M'tri! Give us three ways to check whether your firestone is pure. J'len!
Why shouldn't you take firestone chunks that're too small for your dragon?"
He dangles the chunk before him, teasingly, before finally relenting and
giving it to him. "Lanisa. Why shouldn't you take firestone chunks that're
too -large- for your dragon? Breena - here's your wingsecond's knot,
congratulations, good luck and you'll need it - why do we need firestone to
be pure at all?" He gives her a long look before handing the knot over.

Leonneth bugles in response to Diakoth, seeming superiority above all
other. She watches the line from her end as well. He isn't the only one who
can assert authority. A'tan chuckles softly at his green and speaks loudly,
"WeyrlingMaster, Wing Icemelt ready for inspection and lessons Sir." He
stands straight with eyes forward.

Yselle arcs an eyebrow at the class, particularly Daikoth and his bugling.
/She/ doesn't straighten at that yell to attention, just says, arms folded,
"Salute, M'tri, /never/ forget," apparently she caught that. "You too,"
eyeing one of the brownlings. "Just as soon as your wingleader is
announced, I'm sure they'll find something suitable to remind you." And any
looks sent her way, she just returns with a bland smile; she's almost
bouncing on the balls of her feet, clearly firestone or something's put her
in a good mood.

Kassima leans back against Lysseth's shoulder, arms folded and pose casual
enough that it might bely, were one not paying much attention, the keen
interest with which she watches each Weyrling so named and quizzed. "Nay
taking that bet, Lyss," she murmurs under her breath. "I think they *will*
know. Cynical beast."

Claret sneaks a glance down the line at A'tan and straightens herself up a
little further. As Avrieth's head swivels from dragon to person and then to
the firestone, Claret rocks back on her heels, chewing her bottom lip as
she waits for the other weyrling's responses, along with the question
likely to be directed her way.

Breena returns A'tan's smile with a hint of apology in her eyes, then her
attention's back forward again. The flurry of questions takes her by
surprise, but it's the offering of the wingsecond's knot that truly causes
her eyes to go wide. "I, um. Oh! Impurities. Well. The impure parts don't
have the...the f..phosphine in them..?" She doesn't sound entirely certain
about that, but she carries on, regardless. "Without that, there'd be no
flame, sir." Pause. "Thank you, sir."

J'len straightens his shoulders as the question is directed at him. He
furrows his brows briefly as he tries to remember the answer, then decides
to go with what pops up first and hope. "Firestone that's too small for a
dragon may not get chewed enough and could cause choking when swallowed. Or
it may get over-chewed and lose its fire-producing qualities." He isn't
quite as certain of the second part of that answer, but he'll soon know if
he was even close.

"Yes sir." Lanisa replies and then clasps her hands behind her back before
she recites her answer, when she has a clear moment that no one else is
speaking, "The larger pieces are better saved for the larger dragons who
should use them. If the piece is too large for your dragon, they will have
a harder time chewing it. Just like if you were to take too big a bite of
something it's hard to chew. A chunk of 'stone the right size they will
chew easier and more efficiently."

M'tri couldn't be more grateful accepting that rider knot; he visibly
relaxes, though Daikoth tries to glare holes through the weyrlingmaster as
the man moves down the line. His tail swishes slightly, and then the blue
settles back into the line of his once-subordinates quietly. His confidence
still puffs his chest and half-fans his wings. Already in trouble; that's
his rider, atta kid! Even despite Yselle's scolding (M'tri salutes
belatedly at it with a still-relieved "yes'm"), the lad wracks his brain
for I'sai's answer. Wrack, wrack. Eureka! "Firestone is bumpy, sir,
pock-marked. It's lighter than normal rocks and the color is the same all
'round." Well, leadership at least made him do his studying.

Dianneth rumbles cheerfully at Lysseth, and Taralyth, and just because
she's a big showoff, or maybe to impress Taralyth, she belches a perfect
ring of smoke into the air, then a second, smaller one inside it. She
twists her neck to gaze at the weyrling dragons sweetly as if waiting for
applause. "Congratulations Breena," Yselle says cheerfully, wandering
closer to the lake so she can say to Kassima, "Haven't caught a wingleader
on fire in /turns/ Kassi, and even then it was G'tra, and he doesn't really
count." Maybe she's joking, seemingly she just can't stand still. "Don't
forget the Weyrlingmaster and the Wingleader," she reminds M'tri. It's just
not his day. Still, she's cheerful enough in her salute back.

I'sai tells Breena, "Welcome. And aye. Couple more specific things: first,
the purer it is, the bigger and more reliable the flame; and second, the
easier it is on the dragon's teeth and gums. Don't want to crack a tooth on
the rough spots." He nods to her, to Yselle and S'fin to start with
inspections, and moves on. To J'len: "Not so much; he'll have to be chewing
it himself, after all. It's more that you don't want people - including
yourself - wasting the time hacking it up small when they don't have to.
-Inefficient-." To Lanisa: "Exactly." No doubt, what one would expect of
someone weyrbred. To M'tri, with a grin the brighter for Daikoth's glare,
"You got it. And the same -particular- color, mind; obsidian's the same
color all 'round, and firestone isn't it." With that, he steps out of line
to return A'tan's announcement with a salute, the boy's last as wingleader,
and moves on to give - _Claret_ the new wingleader's knot, and with it the
easy question. "Why do we tell our dragons not to bite their tongues?"
Taralyth snorts; I'sai doesn't look at his dragon, just grins. "Good luck.
And you can start things off by assigning M'tri something to do for that
lack of salute, there." - "Meantime, everyone, get yourself a bag of
firestone and sort out three lumps of the right size for you, just like
we've been practicing."

M'tri practically 'ughs' aloud; perhaps that's because of Claret's
question, or because of his further scolding. Either way, he braces
himself. Just in case Claret decides to attack him with something worse
than the crime. No salute--punishable by death. Pah. He fixes it, just
snapping off a salute for everyone who needs it, including Claret now.

A'tan smiles warmly and leans a little closer, He mutters to Breena,
"Congrats Bree. I... you'll do a..."  He steps away and heads over for a
firesack. He picks one up and and directs Leonneth to move over to the side
away from the others so she won't scorch anyone. He lies his jacket down
and rummages around in the sack looking at pieces, "Nope, too big." He
tosses that one aside, "Hmmm, here's one Neth." He puts it in a beginning
pile as the green wuffles the young man's hair. As though it really needs
any more help.

Claret blinks as she's handed the new wingleader's knot, holding it for an
elongated puzzled moments before she ducks her head in a nod, voicing,
"Thank you, sir." After another pause, she seems to remember that a
question was asked, and puts forth, "Because if we don't remind them, they
might forget at first, and if they forget they might bite their tongue
through, and there haven't been recorded incidents of dragonhealers being
able to sew tongues back together. I don't think," she adds, and then
another, "Sir."

Lysseth returns Dianneth's rumble, though the smoke ring from the other
green is followed by an amused yawn from her: yeah, yeah, she'll save the
impressedness for when someone out-smokes Gandalth. Besides, you should
only see what *she* could do. "That long?" her rider teases Yselle,
glancing over her way. "Only been three sevendays for us. Accident, though.
Doing it on purpose just hasn't felt the *same* since M'rgan retired. See,
Lyss, most of 'em did so know; you owe me a wherry's head," but even
through such thoughts of dubious gain, she has a wide smile for her
promoted mentee.

Hands full, Breena tucks the wingsecond's knot into her pocket after
staring blankly at it for a moment longer. Now it's her turn to fidget
again, while Sonaith looks on, amused. "Yes, sir," the young woman comments
first to I'sai's elaboration of her half-answer, then she shoots a startled
but pleased look A'tan's way. "Thanks." She retrieves a sack of firestone,
rummaging through it to find chunks of rock that are appropriate for her
lifemate's smaller stature. "Oh, hey, congratulations, Claret... I...no,
sweet, it doesn't smell very good, does it? But you know that already.
I..." She trails off, still sifting through to find the right ones, but the
remainder of her conversation, if it continues, is silent.

Yselle snorts at Kassima, and says, "Don't think she's ever done in on
/purpose/, still, she's off to do that requested inspection, still
practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, offering A'tan his outgoing
salute, Claret the incoming one. "Button that sleeve," she says to the
first weyrling in line, the brownling who'd been tardy in saluting
/earlier/. "It's not terribly amusing to catch your clothes on fire, and
tie your hair back. Here," and she whips around, ties the long hair on
itself in a knot, and remarks pleasantly "NEVER come to class like that
again. Mind you, it'll save us all the effort of cutting it if you singe it
off - Claret, when you've a moment, there's the matter of these two not
saluting," that'd be M'tri and the brownrider, "And the hair." Ah, the joys
of being wingleader.

Lanisa fetches her bag, then takes her time selecting just the right
pieces. Not that she's slow about it, mind you, just extra selective you
might say. It's three of the smaller chunks for a smaller blue, but the
color looks just about dead on right and there she waits, after one
experimental toss to each -- Juggling before she stills again, looking
innocent as she listens.

J'len nods briefly, absorbing the correction to his answer and then smiling
as the wingleadership is passed from A'tan to Claret. When the call is
given to collect firestone, he steps forward to the pile and carefully
sorts through about a quarter of it before he's found three pieces that fit
his and Cantaneth's criteria for both size and purity. He piles the rejects
to one side so that other weyrlings might not have to sort through them and
reject them again; see, efficiency. He does listen on occasion. Sack in
hand, he returns to Cantaneth's side as the bronze lowers his head to sniff
at the sack's contents. J'len smiles and lovingly rubs the underside of his
bronze's jawbone since the eyeridges are getting to be beyond even his
reach without some contortions.

"That's right, wingleader," I'sai tells Claret with an approving nod.
"Tongue injuries hurt, and dragons tend to get, ah, -excitable- at the
prospect of flaming." Taralyth snorts quite definitively once again, and
while his sharp, precise flame doesn't resemble Dianneth's smoke rings,
it's _just_ right to miss his rider's head. Unperturbed, I'sai asides,
"Don't try that at home," and walks down the line - it'd be be more of a
stalk if it weren't quite so energetic - as he explains, "All -right-.
Weyrlings! Of the human variety, that is; ask your dragons to open their
mouths so you can look at their teeth. The grinding teeth that they'll use
are near the back, while the ones up front are for ripping and shredding
things like, oh, herdbeasts and your favorite boots." He licks a finger,
holds it up, and then points: "Now, face -that- way, and feed those three
pieces to your dragons, reminding them not to bite their tongues, and then
to chew. A'tan! Why do we stand upwind, not downwind, of the dragons'
muzzles?"

A'tan frowns slightly as he continues to rummage through the bag. He talks
to himself, or maybe Leonneth quietly. He steals a glance over at Lanisa
and watches her for a moment before shaking his head and sighs. He picks
out two more rocks and checks them, for color and for weight. He sets them
aside with the other small rock. "Not too big for you. I don't want you to
not have a tongue to enjoy your food dear." He mumbles again softly as he
seems lost in thought.

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth drifts over a laughing thought, an
image: his rider's hair as if he *hadn't* missed, spikes cheerfully alight
with flame that does no real damage... and glorious smoke rings rising from
the blaze. A shame she doesn't know what s'mores are, or she'd likely
envision those too.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth whistles one of those smoke rings by -
in one ear, out the other.

M'tri casts a look down at Lani before hitching up his pantlegs and
hunkering down beside his own sack, poking through the rocks within. He
tosses plenty off to the side with unsatisfied grunts of his own, and just
as many from his lifemate. A few actually earn close inspection and finally
the young man has selected stones that appear suitable. "All good, wouldn't
you say?" he asks the dragon, who lowers his head to rake over his rider's
selections and then agree with a grunt. "Shhh, it's okay. You /knew/ they
were going to change through. Now, open." Daikoth obediently opens his
mouth, almost yawning in the action rather than letting Trii examine what
he's supposed to be examining. "Those teeth," M'tri says, reaching right in
to tap them. When his rider's arm is well clear of sharp teeth, Daikoth
turns to face the way I'sai pointed and open his mouth once more.

"Once knew a dragon who was *so* excitable, they nay only took the 'stone
from their rider's hands t'chew, but one of the gloves, too. His flame was
a lovely leather brown forever after that." Kassima offers this tidbit with
a perfectly straight face. Somehow. "So, y'know, all the more reason t'take
it slow and careful."

A'tan snaps his head up as he hears his name repeating most of the question
to himself, "Upwind instead of downwind from muzzles." He glances down at
Leonneth as he feeds her one of the rocks, "Slow, chew. And don't forget to
move your tongue." He stands tall and then looks over at the
Weyrlingmaster, "Ummm, So that we don't accidently get flamed by our
dragons. I personally don't like the smell that is released as well sir."
He hopes his answer is close to being right.

Finally, Breena comes up with three hunks of firestone that are small
enough for Sonaith, and uniform in color. She straightens, not without a
quick look the way of the weyrlingmasters, to make sure that she's doing
everything right thus far. "Open up," she murmurs to Sonaith, who obliges,
if slowly. "No, I have to see the back teeth, you'll have to open far--yes,
that's better, like that. Wow. Wouldn't want to get my fingers caught in
there. Here..." She reaches in and drops the first of the three hunks of
stone, hurriedly withdrawing her arm to Sonaith's amused rumble. "Chew, but
be careful, go slowly. Remem...um, well, I guess you don't. Never mind."

S'fin is surprised into a laugh at Kassima's quip, but after a glance at
the greenrider, he keeps his distance in favor of pointing out a buckle
that apparently rusted overnight. That bluerider can learn.

Claret catches up her bag and hurries to the pile a bit belatedly to fill
it with a few pieces of the smallest stone she can find. Rummaging rapidly,
she's only a bit selective, though she does peer into the bag as she walks
back to Avrieth, making sure there's nothing in it that looks too untoward.
She returns a bright smile to Breena, adding, "Congratulations to you too."
Blinking again, she looks up at the Yselle, and wrinkling her brows she
remarks, "Oh, yes. Um..." Looking toward the miscreants mentioned, she asks
uncertainly, "Does that mean punishment, or..."

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth snags it with an airy breath, sending
it blowing so that it might just land around one of his headknobs if her
aim is true. Who needs bottles?

I'sai tells A'tan, "Close. Wind won't keep you from getting flamed, unless
it's a -really- rough gust or you were nearly safe on your own. It'll keep
you from getting as ashy, though, and aye, the smell - not only does it
smell bad, but you can get to coughing and get distracted." Taralyth
glances at Avrieth; his rider looks at Clareth a heartbeat later. "What?
Aye. Use your best judgement." Although he does help enough to say, "I'm
always a fan of pushups," not that that's likely to be a surprise by now.
To everyone, called out to carry over the noise of crunching stone, "When
it feels small enough, ask 'em to swallow, and -think of their second
stomachs!- Just like we've talked about. Second stomachs! And remind them
not to look over at someone else, even if they're really curious. Don't
want anyone singed by accident." After that, it'll be a bit of a wait.

Lanisa sends a slightly nervous glance M'tri's way and then careful she and
Tisiath move to face as indicated -before- the blue gets the first stone.
And then, Lani's forgetting again as she mumbles to the blue. "That's it
shift it back, between your teeth. Got it?" - "Tongue's all clear? Yes I
know you know but I'm reminding you anyway." Then another glance, this one
to I'sai and she nods, "You heard him, Tisi. Go on, chew it small enough,
second stomach."

Kassima favors S'fin with a sweet smile, an innocent and large-eyed
blink--and an exaggerated finger-snap when he turns away. Foiled again. Not
that the bluerider can keep her attention long, with Weyrlings selecting
their 'stone and feeding. She might not be able to see how they do, but
Lysseth is good enough to crane her neck and try to put her higher vantage
to good use.

Yselle, in her inspection, pauses by A'tan. She just stares at him for the
longest time, and then, in a calm measured tone, asks, "You do realise that
you're wearing two left shoes, A'tan? And that lace is going to snap
shortly if you're not careful," apparently it doesn't require special
treatment, because as she passes Claret, she answers her question, "Yes,
you're assigned to M'tri's and Jalyce's punishment. M'tri for -twice-
forgetting to salute, and Jalyce for that and general untidiness in class.
Best clean that buckle when you get back to the barracks, Claret." Breena's
offered an approving nod and a "Wingsecond," apparently she's the good
candidate, M'tri is told, "That hair of yours is a disgrace, still it's not
likely to injure you." And so on.

A'tan pulls his hand away from Leonneth's mouth as he hears Yselle speaking
to him. He looks up at her, "Two?" His face reddens quickly as he looks
down at the shoes. He slaps his hand to his forehead and grimaces, "I can't
believe I..." He looks at Leonneth who is still chewing, "Yes the back ones
and your second stomach. No I didn't forget how to dress myself." He frowns
at his green and then feeds her the last stone. He watches Yselle walk away
and breaths a little easier as he glances at the other weyrlings and their
dragons.

Dianneth, meanwhile, watches Taralyth's display with some interest, and
contemplates his rider like a hunter might a wild porcine. She huffs some
more smoke in his direction. Maybe she'll even ring /him/. Then she cocks
her head as if waiting for the approbation of the assembled dragons.

Claret nods at Yselle passing comment on the dirty buckle, voicing a "Yes
ma'am," before turning an uncertain gaze to M'tri and then to Jalyce.
"Right. Extra laps then, I guess. I mean, I know," she adds, trying not to
sound uncertain about it. "Tomorrow, that is." That over with, Claret
sticks her hand into the bag, and inspecting the firestone once more, and a
bit more carefully this time, for size and purity, she looks tentatively up
toward Avrieth, who bends her neck down, eyes whirling with readiness for
the next new task. "Remember," Claret murmurs under her breath as she
offers up the 'stone to Avrieth. "Second stomach. Second stomach, second
stomach," she repeats quietly to herself, watching Avrieth intently as she
starts crunching on the stone.

M'tri's face contorts into a wince as he drops the first piece into
Daikoth's mouth. Crunching away, Daikoth doesn't seem to mind the fact that
he sounds completely /monsterous/. M'tri's own hand finds his jaw as the
blue masticates thoroughly. "Eeh, that--my hair?" Daikoth makes a move to
turn his head to face the passing AWLM. "No, Daikoth, you keep chewing. And
watch your tongue. No, not literally, just...make sure you don't bite it."
Any conversation about hair is discarded in favor of Daikoth's swallowing
and picturing the proper stomach. Keeping a hand alongside Daikoth's
muzzle, Trii absently "Yes, Wingleader"s to Claret.

"Here, have another," says Breena to Sonaith, sparing a quick glance and a
grateful smile to Yselle. "Second stomach, remember. Chew slowly now, don't
bite your tongue." Pause. "I...no, no, you're fine, but I'm supposed to be
here to remind you." Crunch, crunch, crunch--Sonaith puts those back teeth
to work and, tailtip twitching, she swallows and waits, nearly looking back
toward her weyrling, but for the sharp, "Don't! Remember what the
Weyrlingmaster said, no looking around."

Leonneth chew, chew, chew. She watches Taralyth as he blows rings. Rings!
Oh please. Anyone can blow rings. She chews some more and then looks up at
A'tan as he points away from him. "I don't want my eyebrows singed off
Neth. Blow that way." She tilts her head as her stomach begins to rumble.
She stands very still but unfurls her wings for some balance. The rumbling
gets a little louder. What is that? Her eyes begin to whirl a little
faster. Rings, yep gonna make rings. The rumble travels up her throat as
she lets out a loud belch, "Blechch." making the small green fall backwards
with a suprised look as smoke curls from her nose.

K'ran heads over from the central bowl.

Yselle pauses to look back at Claret. Dianneth rumbles Avriethwards. "Extra
laps," she repeats, as if to emphasize the new wingleader's words. "Two
/different/ shoes - makes it easier to walk," she calls back to A'tan. It's
not unkind, and she even manages not to smile too much. Lanisa is allowed a
nod as she passes. "Looking good weyrling," she says. J'len likewise
receives an approving nod. Then, with that grin for the weyrlingmaster, she
snaps off a salute and says, "All accounted for, sir, how're those
fingers?" She stands, feet apart, next to him, shoves her hands behind her
back and looks over at the weyrlings expectantly, "Jalyce, tell him to chew
a bit more enthusiastic than that or he'll be going at it whilst the others
are coughing up ash."

One of the browns, thankfully over to the side and out of range, turns his
head inquisitively as he notices the weyrleader approaching... right
through his first trickle of flame. His rider panicks and physically shoves
on the dragon's neck to get him back in line, the brown moving back with a
disappointed grunt more at the reminder than the force itself.

A second and then a third chunk follow in succession for Tisiath. Each
carefully chewed, each carefully swallowed, and Lani murmuring away the
whole time as usual. And then they settle in to wait. But as they do,
Lani's edging a step or to back along the blue's side. Where she can still
watch, just, you know, not be in the line of inexperienced fire. She
manages a nod back to Yselle accompanied by a smile. But it's short lived
as she waits on her blue.

I'sai's nod confirms the salute as he returns from seeing to another pair,
and then he waves his his hands for his assistant to see - with an index
finger tucked back as if he'd only nine. "Same as usual," he tells her.
"Same as usual." - "Afternoon; wise to keep your distance!" he adds more
loudly in K'ran's direction before Taralyth reinforces the warning to the
young dragons: no, -don't- look at whoever's approaching. Don't want to
flame your lifemates. Really.

"If'n they flame anyone by accident, the Weyrlingmasters will probably make
you clean up the charred bones and ashes, too. And such things *smell*,"
Kassi calls. She's just a repository of oh-so-helpful tips for the
Weyrlings tonight.

Cantaneth chews the pieces of stone as J'len feeds them through, a look of
intense concentration on both of their faces. With each piece, J'len
recites the undertone of 'second stomach, second stomach, avoid the
tongue'. At first, he is taken by suprise at just how /loud/ the chewing of
firestone is from this close, but then common sense kicks him in the head.
It is rock, after all. When the last piece has been deposited in the
bronze's waiting mouth, he makes certain to be firmly upwind and directs
Cantaneth to point his muzzle straight away in the instructed direction. He
raises his eyebrows to Yselle as she passes by, but maintains the litany
until he gets this echoed feeling of heaviness in his belly from
Cantaneth... this about a half-second before Cantaneth lets out a
*BhicELCHic* and a tiny stream of fire escapes barely past the end of his
muzzle, sputtering in and out for a few seconds before the belch ends and
he closes his mouth again.

S'fin calls in his turn, "And if they flame by purpose, it'll be your stew
tonight!" And then he looks faintly shocked at himself, and hurries away
from stray greenriders again.

K'ran quits his approach, at first in reaction to the young brown's
wandering flame; I'sai's warning lengthens his pause. His expression's
increasingly disapproving as his gaze wanders across the lesson and its
spectators, but he says nothing, instead simply turning around and heading
back the way he came.

K'ran heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering lake.

Yselle snickers at I'sai and his finger. "I /thought/ we were a little
short on numbers today," she says, making a show of inspecting the fingers.
She too follows the general glance over to K'ran, and offers the Weyrleader
a warm smile. "Weyrlings, just remember, the Weyrleader approves all wing
postings," she says, grinning. "Best to keep your flame from him." Still,
as he leaves, she frowns too, thoughtful.

As Daikoth attempts to turn his head again, M'tri looses his cool. Sure,
his dragon wouldn't set him on fire on purpose, but that's just not
comforting him. Seeking shelter beneath one of his dragon's wings, M'tri
advises, "You just...chew..." The second and third 'stones have disappeared
in his mouth and chewed with reined haste, so, eventually, Daikoth's
patience - or lack thereof - is rewarded. The blue looks uncomfortable for
a moment, then the muscles of his abdomen clench and unclench. With a
rather unattractive sound, the blue spurts something that may be a flame
but isn't quite large enough for the classification, and then closes his
mouth again. Now he looks not only impatient, but disappointed.

Avrieth sends a rumble of reply to Dianneth, distracting Claret's carefully
focused attention on thoughts of a second stomach. Grimacing up at the
green, Claret's cheeks turn very lightly, almost unnoticeably pink as she
reaches to grab another piece of firestone. "Second stomach," she repeats
as she hands it up. Avrieth chews away contentedly, shifting her head to
watch the Weyrleader's departure and inspect the progress of the other
dragons. "No no no!" is Claret's quick protest. Reaching up her hands as if
to bring Avrieth's head back, Claret repeats, "No! You've got to keep your
head -still-."

Leonneth gets up quickly and keeps her head in the direction her lifemate
told her too. Stomach rumbles, bring flames. Must remember. A'tan chuckles
softly at Leonneth. "Its alright. Let's try again. Concentrate on the heat
and bring it up to make a flame." He rests his hand on her neck as he waits
for her to process the information. "You can do it Neth. Just a little
flame." She puffs a little bit as a small stream of smoke comes from her
nostrils. That is where the flame is /supposed/ to come out. She blows
again and a small trickle of flame comes forward. A'tan smiles, "See you
can do it. Just a little at a time."

"Second stomach, right," Breena's still reminding Sonaith, and though *she*
might be distracted briefly with the arrival of the Weyrleader--a quick
salute's offered his way--the green is not, after much reminding.
Eventually, the firestone does the trick, and the dainty green opens her
mouth to push out a small but bright burst of flame, gone as quickly as it
appeared. "Oh! Did you see? Yes, that's good, like that."

I'sai resumes the walking - well out of dragonets' range - and explains as
he does so, "In future drills, your dragons will learn how to keep their
flame consistent - " Taralyth displays a regular, controlled stream of
flame - "How to hit what they aim at - " the bronze torches not his rider
but a nearby rock - "and all that good sort of thing. You'll learn how to
not waste flame, but to use the amount you need to do the job; how to get
wide enough so you get all you need to, but narrow enough to get the power;
and, most of all, how to target. But for now, they'll have a few more good
spurts in 'em, and then it'll be time to trot over to the ashpits,"
downwind from the barracks, "to have 'em vomit it back up. If they do it
here, you'll have to clean it up here; after they get rid of the ash, and
you take care of what needs to be taken care of, you may consider yourself
dismissed. Next flaming drill will be tomorrow, mid-morning. Any questions?"

Lysseth trumpets at these first flickers of flame, a delighted sound that
evidently startles her rider since she jerks and rubs at her ears--but
Kassima's pleased too. "Oh, good! Sonaith and Leonneth both got flame; did
you see--" She's reasonably quiet in these observations, quieter still as
I'sai speaks; still, she murmurs to her lifemate, "Maidil's still on the
injured list. Wonder if'n we could recruit her t'watch that drill."

A'tan stands and salutes I'sai and the others once more as he turns back to
Leonneth once again. "Try one more time Neth." He waits patiently as she
blows once again with another small flame followed by a belch. He stands
then and rubs his hands on his pants, "Oh it feels funny in your stomach?
Let's hurry down there." He starts to lead the way to the pits to instruct
her on how to get rid of the burning stuff in her stomach. "Yes, I know it
does burn some. That's where the flame comes from." He smiles
affectionately at her, "You did very well. Really you did."

Tisiath doesn't seem to mind where his lifemate is slinking back to. He's
far more focused on him, and well, him. Not that Lani isn't watching close,
she is. And from a vantage a bit closer then under a wing, but hey. She
wants to see without singeing. It's then that the blue rumbles and lets
loose not a gout, but more like a flicker of flame. For the moment he's
quite pleased with that as well, as it Lani and then she giggles, "It will
get bigger silly, as you work on it. No, no. Keep looking that way."

Dianneth seems distracted for a moment, mirrored by her rider's look of
shock. A moment later, and she's staring at the class again, and Dianneth
is offering her own stream of flame for the weyrling inspection. Yselle
manages a smile and a "And that's how it's done."

Claret watches Avrieth with some trepidation after she's chewed up her
third firestone. Wrinkling her nose Claret glances to see if any of the
other young dragons have managed to spout flame yet, but quickly turns to
her attention back to Avrieth lest the green get any ideas about following
her example. "Second stomach," she murmurs again, though Avrieth has
already finished chewing. Moments later a sound much like a hiccup erupts
from Avrieth, followed by a snort, and a little rumble as a bit of smoke
issues forth.

A'tan heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering lake.

Leonneth lumbers in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the
shimmering lake.

Sonaith's next few attempts are as fleeting as the first, but they're still
flame, which leaves the young woman bursting with pride as she watches.
"That," she says, "was brilliant. Come on now, like the Weyrlingmaster
said, back this way." She salutes the riders, then heads off toward the ash
pits, for the less pleasant portion of tonight's agenda.

Sonaith lumbers in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the
shimmering lake.

Breena heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering
lake.

Daikoth opens his mouth again, just as M'tri relinquishes his position from
beneath the wing. Another flame, this one far superior to his previous in
that it actually goes /past/ his muzzle. Yay for Daikoth! Rumbling
gleefully, Daikoth only halts to look at his clutchmates and then follow
them to those pits. His would likely be /very/ unhappy to have to clean up
after him. And so, after a moment of saluting, M'tri falls out and stalks
after his dragon, warning, "You'd better not drop that stuff before you
make it to the pit."

J'len's smile grows as Cantaneth's next few belches of flame are more
substantial then the first, and the last one before the bronze feels empty
of gases manages to be a single, solid jet as well. Knowing what's about to
come next, he salutes before leading Cantaneth towards the ash pits,
congratulating his lifemate for getting flame his first try without leaving
bite-marks in his tongue.

Cantaneth lumbers in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the
shimmering lake.

J'len heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering lake.

M'tri heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering lake.

Daikoth lumbers in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the
shimmering lake.

Kassima salutes the departing Weyrlings as they go, eyes bright--bright
with suppressed laughter in more than one instance. "Ah," she sighs in
mock-reminiscence, "that delightful first opportunity t'experience your
lifemate's ash-vomiting. I recall it well. Good show, Weyrlings, all of
you, if'n I may say so."

"Good job, wingleader," I'sai mentions as he walks by. "You too, Tisiath,
and listen to her." He gives Kassima a quick look, a hint of a smile, and
in the end crosses towards Yselle to speak to her quietly.

Yselle's cheeks are a little pink as she pauses to listen to the
Weyrlingmaster, and reply to him, looking uncomfortable.

Claret steps back unconsciously as a tiny little snort of flame follows the
smoke, along with a repetition of that hiccuping noise. Moving close enough
to lay a tentative hand on Avrieth's hide, Claret assures, "That was
brilliant Avri. Really lovely and--oh!" she breaks off as Avrieth's body
shudders again as she expels more smoke, mostly without the accompaniment
of flame. "We'll practice more." Looking up, Claret replies, "Thank you
ma..." Breaking off her address to Kassima she turns instead to I'sai, and
repeats, "Thank you, sir."

Kassima looks back with a faint smile to mirror his, nodding her respect to
him, and then she has her hands in her pockets and is
meandering--carefully--closer to where Claret and Avrieth are, to watch the
young green at work. "She does well," she echoes, with a fleeting smile for
her mentee. "Let me know--won't you?--if'n there's aught new you need, now,
from Stores or the like." The smile broadens to a full-out grin at the
truncated address. No comment beyond, "Welcome, naturally."

I'sai frowns all at once; again Taralyth-spurred, he looks over, nods to
Claret even, going for a reassuring look before returning to discuss further.

Lanisa gives a bright smile for that, and then the glance that follows
after her father has that 'I so don't want to know' look before she turns
back to Tisiath, saying, "Yes of course he did." She sends a glance Kassi's
way and then grins at Claret as she waits to see if her blue is done and
ready for the ash pit.

Claret bobs her head as Kassima moves nearer, trying, and not quite
successfully, to keep at least one eye on Avrieth to make sure no more
unexpected belches of flame and smoke occur. And as it happens, after a few
more bizarre noises and a rumble, a bit more smoke spills out, and Avrieth
fidgets uncomfortably. Waiting, still, for signs that Avrieth's done,
Claret replies, "I don't think I need any just now, but if I do, I'll be
sure to let you know. Thanks awfully," she finishes before turning to echo
Lani's grin.

Kassima glances to Lanisa, too--perhaps Lyss caught that look, or perhaps
Kassi has eyes on the sides of her head after all--and offers her a smile
too. "How does he feel?" she wonders. "Enjoying it? --All right, Claret,
just wanted t'be sure. But you can feel free t'whap me if'n I'm being a
pest t'you. I give you special leave: thwack me right on the arm. Just nay
hard enough t'break bones, because I'd never live *that* down with
m'Wingmates."

Good thing Lanisa doesn't want to know, or at least is acting as if she
doesn't, for I'sai's tone sharpens for a moment before he moderates it;
after a while he pauses, eyes Yselle somewhat warily, then cautiously
reaches out to pat her shoulder.

Yselle glances, too, at the weyrlings, but the earnest conversation with
I'sai continues, too low for it to carry far.

Claret's eyes widen slightly at Kassima's suggestion. "Pest? Thwap you?"
she repeats. "I don't think I should like to do that at all, even with
permission. Well..." Reconsidering for a moment she seems to come to the
same conclusion. "No, I definitely wouldn't. I wish I could seem to think
of things I need, but the trouble is, I can't remember until it comes time
to patch patches or something simply doesn't fit right. I don't think it's
at all being pesty." As Avrieth gives a low croon, Claret's attention
shifts rapidly toward her. "Done, you think? Well, I guess we ought to head
to the ashpit, then."

"All right," says Kassima, nodding and appearing to take this quite
seriously. Apart from the glinting eyes, at least. "I appreciate that
vastly, that you wouldn't. Doesn't have t'be aught material; if'n you find
yourself in need of an ear or Avrieth in need of a hunting partner, we're
here for that too. Though, truth be told, she might do well t'get a neater
partner than Madame-Plays-With-Food." Lysseth simply harumphs. "G'luck with
the ash, Avrieth! And sweet and vomit-free dreams t'you both, if'n you seek
'em after."

Lanisa considers Tisiath, and ignores 'the other' conversation completely,
"I think he's done." She tells Kassi, Just waiting for... Ahh that. Excuse
us?" She gives a quick grin and then they head off to the ash pits as well.
Course, unlike some of the others, they find their way back after the blue
is done. Even though it takes a bit, but now Tisiath is heading on for the
water. He needs a swim after flaming it seems.

Claret nods, but doesn't add much further reply as Avrieth makes another
disgruntled noise. Saluting first, she then turns to hurry off toward the
ashpit, Avrieth following her with alacraity.

Avrieth lumbers in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the
shimmering lake.

Claret heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering
lake.

Yselle watches the weyrlings now, even if her words are directed to I'sai.
Perhaps her attention was directed back to them. She watches much more
closely now.

Kassima's grin at the blue and green pairs' respective departures is
certainly understanding, and while they're gone, she takes the opportunity
to quip up to Lysseth, "*This* is why you should be glad I didn't stoke you
for smoke-rings. What if'n you'd had t'upchuck in front of the young ones?
So undignified." Can dragons look pained? The green is trying to. "He all
right now?" she asks Lani as they return. --And yes, some of her attention
is on that murmuring pair. She's even indiscreet enough to flick the
occasional look their way. But there's no chance of eavesdropping without
going and standing right beside their faces, and she has more subtlety than
that... usually.

Lanisa only sends them a glance, more like a check, 'yeah still at it'
thing and her attention's on Kassi as she nods, "He's feeling much better
now. Except he claims now he's all dirty and needs a bath and oiling before
he'll be presentable again." For the next performance, of course. Lani just
gives an amused roll of her eyes and then grins as Tisiath starts his swim.

"Someone's slightly vain?" Kassi's voice holds no great surprise, nor
censure. She meanders on over to where she can better watch the blue swim
now. Lysseth? Well, she seems mildly interested in watching the
Weyrlingmaster team members' kaffeklatsch instead. "In this case I can't
blame him. Lyss feels dirty enough after Fall--or felt--and drills anyway,
which makes perfect sense since she's usually filthy, but coughing up ash
doesn't help her any in feeling more springtime fresh. I wonder if'n it
does for any dragon. If'n so, methinks I'm worried."

I'sai confers; but he's straightening up, and it looks as if things are
winding down. He glances over towards a pair whose brown has begun to
hiccup, but this time it's a different sort of frown.

Yselle doesn't look terribly comfortable, even yet, she's dividing her
attention between weyrlingmaster and class.

"Slightly. Though he claims it saves time to be ready for everything up
front rather scrambling later." And considering Lanisa indulges the blue
too much, she either hasn't found a good argument to that or isn't
bothering to. She trails along after Kassima though and nods, "Aye. I can't
say I blame him in the slightest for this now. Though maybe I'll talk him
out of the extra oiling in favor of sleep."

Kassima agrees at once, "Oh, it does--" Then stops. Corrects, "Sometimes.
Sometimes 'tis less *time* it saves than peace of mind, and appearance
given that 'rushed' is a good look for so few. Either way." She never did
get all the firestone dust from her skin, and with the Lake so near she
stoops again to take advantage of the water and make a second attempt.
"Haven't been sleeping well? Or haven't been getting t'sleep soon enough?
--Oh, dear." A glance is thrown back towards that hiccupping brown. "Poor
thing. I always feel a little sorry for 'em when it doesn't go entirely
right, y'know. It has t'be *hard*, learning t'chew rock and breathe fire. I
couldn't do it." Pause. "Wish I could." Well, natch.

That brown hiccups again - only this time he vomits, even if just a little,
on his rider's boots. I'sai groans, and makes for him, nodding all around
before heading them towards the barracks... the brown leaving a splattered
trail all along the way.

I'sai heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering lake.

Telgar Weyr> I'sai falls over. Conk. Night!

Telgar Weyr> Kassima zhaisnugs an Is. Dream not of dragon-vomit!

Telgar Weyr> Yselle says, "Lovely parting thought. :)"

Telgar Weyr> Emilly falls over laughing.

"It does, only we still disagree a bit on how through one has to be to
merely be presentable." Lani says with a grin and then shrugs a shoulder
for the other. "A bit of both. Not enough. It's interrupted... Oh dear..."
This echoed while watching the brown as well. And the hand over the mouth?
Politely covering her reaction.

Yselle watches I'sai and rolls her eyes, glancing after him. She looks over
at Lanisa and Tisiath, noting, "Dianneth was just like that. - Fussy about
her appearance."

"As was Juliath," Kassi throws in. "Lyss less so. She doesn't like
*feeling* dirty, though, and again, hard t'blame her. Does he," and she
jerks her chin towards Tisiath, "want you t'wear aught special, as some
do?" Why, no, she doesn't fire an amused glance towards Ys there, why do
you ask? "--Urgh. That... was pleasant."

Lanisa considers, "He doesn't mind getting dirty. He just likes to get
cleaned up after and ready to go again." She grins then, "He does a little,
but more like he just wants me to be presentable. Not so much as wear this
shirt with those trousers."

Yselle pulls a face at Kassima. "Yeah, well, after she got me to get a
haircut, and change my /wardrobe/ and uh... add a few special items, it's
just the usual, do your hair, don't wear this, wear /that/ - she's got her
own loveliness down pat of course."

Kassima takes a long look at Lanisa's clothes. "What's wrong with that
shirt and those trousers?" she asks, evidently genuinely bemused, and
splitting the question between Weyrling and young dragon both. "Of all
fixations a dragon can have, cleanliness isn't a bad one. Still. May I just
say, I'm very glad Lyss never wanted me t'cut m'hair? We'd have had a
rousing row about it."

"I liked them, and he doesn't care, so long as I'm dressed for what we're
doing. And I find it hard to argue with that. Shards, I'll bet I still only
own one dress and I doubt it would fit me now if I could wear it." Lani
shrugs again. "I never was much on dressing up anyway. Looking tidy when
you need to is a different matter of course." She adds a grin their. "Never
got around to growing mine out too long. So I suppose cutting it would
bother me less."

Yselle, seeming satisfied with the progress of the weyrlings grins, and
looks back towards the barracks. "I'd better go, I... but just be glad
you'll never go proddy," and with that charming thought, and a grin for
Kassima, with "You've lovely hair though," she slips back to the barracks,
following in I'sai's wake, somewhat.

Yselle heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering
lake.

Kassima admits, "That doesn't sound unreasonable. Functional clothes are
important, especially now--can you imagine, if'n you wore a skirt? Fwooom!
'Twould probably be afire in a short while, and Faranth only knows what the
males in the class would make of it if'n your clothes burned off right in
front of 'em." She talks about this quite as if it were a genuine cause for
worry. "A'course, I can't say skirts are always a foul thing since
m'Gather-closet's full of 'em. But... well, I like dressing up, sometimes.
Feeling elegant. Silly, I know. You do have good hair; might look well
long, but length is on the impractical side." This doesn't keep her from
flashing Ys a pleased grin for the compliment, mind you, nor for calling,
"Thankee; sweet dreams t'you, too! And nay dreams of T'van in tight leather!"

Lanisa sends a salute after Yselle, but lets face it. It's a smidge lazy
for the retreating back and then she nods, chuckles even. "I'm certainly
glad I wont have to have him going proddy, but I'm sure we'll have problems
of our own." That murmured in the the assistant's wake and after a pause,
"I'd rather not have any of my clothes burned off me, skirt or nay. But I
like practical, for most things. And nothing wrong with dressing up for the
odd occasion. But a weyrling hardly needs a dress, so I don't miss it's
lack." Her hand drifts to a strawberry curl, "It clashes though. With a lot
of things."

"Me, too. A proddy male is something that would disturb me nay end,"
decides Kassima, after giving Tisiath a wary look as though to check him
for any sign of glow. "--Every pair has its own issues. Own worries. You
haven't Daikoth's ego t'worry about, have you; or Volath's impatience for
the sky, or R'len's bronze's amazing ability t'produce endless amounts of
muck, thank Faranth. Nor have they your unique concerns. In a way 'tis
fascinating how different they are, just as 'tis fascinating how different
people can be." And now that she's rambled, "Nay? Mmm, you might
reconsider. Or nay. Shell knows, I don't think women need dresses--men,
now, that's different. But graduation should come eventually. A good set of
leathers might almost be better for that, though." Now it's the hair that
gets that speculative look. "Does it? Suppose it might. What about green?
Blue? Black?"

Lanisa giggles for that. "Aye. It's be a fearful thing, Tisi proddy? I
shudder at the thought. No no. I like him as he is, only maybe with less
time on the oiling." But she pauses, "Not that I mind doing it. He's still
far smaller than helping da with Tear." Nodding along, "He's probably most
like Daikoth, but yeah. Not so much ego and not so much attraction to shiny
and marks. -- Certainly his own self." She grins, "I've enough to worry
about with out replacing my wardrobe." Funny, the one display worries her
less. Or not so funny, with her upbringing, "Need them? No. But they can be
nice. And aye.. Maybe for men too, when the time is right. Leathers is what
I thought though, for graduation. I've outgrown my old ones there too.
Other than the jackets we got as a wing." And ahh, the hair, "Everyone with
red hair wears green. I like the color, but blue, black or grey is more to
my style. The right brown maybe."

Lysseth would seem to feel that all this talk of oiling and tending dragons
should make her rider at least inclined to scritch the muzzle of her own,
and nudges Kassi's shoulder in a gentle imperative that wins a laugh from
her. Long fingers seeking out sensitive spots on the slender muzzle, the
chin, the jaw, Kassi says, "And Tear's nay the largest bronze I've ever
seen. But Is doesn't regret him either, surely; who could regret their
lifemate? They're so wonderful. Don't let this swell your head, lump."
Lysseth's soft snort has the sound of a laugh. "Could fly down t'Weaver and
have yourself measured for dress-leathers if'n you've the marks t'spare,
the inclination t'spare them, and the time t'do it. I've never regretted
buying a set. Ever tried violet or indigo?"

"Not the largest, no. And regret? No I don't think he would at that, even
with more work for washing and oiling." Lani grins, "I'm happy enough Tisi
wont ever be -that- big though. He's still smaller than Daikoth too." A
smile for Lysseth and Lani turns to watch her own lifemate come back
ashore, "Could. When we can go. Gotta see how many marks I've got not tied
in bets again." She lifts a brow for the last, then shakes her head, "No.
Not really."

"I'm glad Lyss isn't, too, for all that I'm fond of Tear. Wouldn't trade
her for any larger. Wouldn't," Kassi admits freely, resting her cheek
briefly against her dragon's, "trade her for aught." No audible answer from
Lysseth, but her eyes spin a slow, rather gentle blue shade. "Hah. What
bets now, apart from yours with me on Amarie? You might try it. I don't
know all that much about color-clashing, mind; black hair's good fortune
that way, but I'd think red-gold and violet would look well together."

"I'll have to look at that sometime. I'd never thought about it. It might
work. But something in a blue first. That hue I'm sure of." Lani says with
a wink and then gives a light smile, "Oh, you know. There's a pool on
who'll get wingleader and second when. I lost an thirty-second on that
today. Had T'bay pegged." She shrugs a shoulder and then grins, "I should
get back though. If I want to get that sleep I was missing. See you soon,
eh?" And with Tisiath in tow, she heads out.

Thoughtfully, "T'bay, huh?" Kassima considers this. "Could mayhaps see it.
Wouldn't quite feel right betting on that m'self, though, more's the pity.
I just look with interest t'see who's chosen--and what they make of it."
She stops scritching Lysseth long enough to salute Lanisa, a thing the
dragon puts up with tolerably well. "G'deve t'you both! Hope you don't
dream of dragon vomit, either."

Lanisa grins back over her shoulder, "It seemed a good bet at the time."
For that, then saluting, is gone with a final chuckle.

Lanisa heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering
lake.

Tisiath lumbers in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the
shimmering lake.